Don't Cry
by Shakuhachi Jade
Summary: Yzak's life is spiraling down the drain. Can an old friend help him turn it around? Can he help that friend in any possible way? Yzak x Nicol REVISED


**Don't Cry**

_Yzak/Nicol, Athrun/Cagalli_

Rating: _K+_

Yzak's life is spiraling down the drain. Can an old friend help him turn it around? Can he help that friend in any possible way?

**Disclaimer** I do not own Gundam Seed or anything related to it.

**A/N **This is just something to kind of help me get over a little writer's block I'm having. I needed some random Yzak/Nicol fluff, and I thought I'd share it. I may write a short sequel chapter about the friend Nicol was talking about, but only if this gets any reviews. I am currently writing on the next chapter for my Fowl ficlett (I've re-written it twice now...) So, yeah, I can't really get too distracted. Good things come with time and patience. Hope you like!

* * *

A quiet voice whispered to the man, low but tender; a sweet kind of melodic tickling in his ear. It whispered sweet nothings that didn't really make sense, of times long since gone. The church was filled with colorful lights and prismatic shadows, casting themselves upon the lone person. It wasn't like he actually went to church. He never really had an interest in religion, what with the war going on. There was no time for praying. Maybe he should've taken some. Everything seemed...distant, in a way. He was in another world, and he wasn't alone.

The voice gave off an energy, like a life force caught between dimensions. That pretty much summed it up altogether. The air emitting the energy slowly morphed and twisted into the form of a small, transparent, fifteen-year-old boy. He looked tired.

"How's Athrun?" the ghost asked.

"He's doing fine with Cagalli," the veteran said with a slight twitch of his mouth. "He said he might come back to work with me if he gets the chance, but he also said he was going to be very busy." The boy gave him a quizzical look. Yzak lifted his head to stare at the familiar face. "He's got a baby girl due in January..." His voice trailed off, but it left no emotion behind. That was two months from today.

"And Dearka?"

"He left the military as soon as he could and ran off with some blond girl. I haven't heard from him since, but he had plenty of money to live a nice, first-class life. I'll assume he's living it large."

The ghost hesitated a moment before asking, "...What about you, Yzak?"

The silver haired man laughed bitterly. "Me? Heh...I've done nothing but waste my life. The military was all I had. My mother died one year after the war—I don't know why—and as far as I'm concerned, I _have_ no father. For four years I've done paperwork for an organization that basically no longer exists. I have no one else to...be with. No one to talk to." A frown had formed itself on his pale features. No, Yzak wasn't crazy. He didn't think he was, anyway. Though talking to a dead person isn't exactly something normal humans do. "I miss you, Nicol..." he said quietly. "I'm glad I've got the chance now to...to say I'm sorry for the way I treated you back then..." He felt the light fluff of feathers brushing against his face. Nope, definately not crazy. He could _feel _the green-haired angel's wings wrap around his body; he could feel Nicol's head gently pressing on his shoulder, and the boy's small arms wrapped around his waist—firm, even though they held no warmth.

"Don't apologize," Nicol whispered back. His lips were nearly caressing Yzak's ear. "I'm glad I can be of some help to you."

That was Nicol for you—always caring about others in disregard for himself. He was incapable of wishing ill upon another human being. Yzak sighed, his eyes becoming more distant than they already were. "Nicol, are you really dead?" It was a blunt question that he didn't mean to sound so sarcastic.

Nicol simply blinked his eyes shut and squeezed Yzak tighter. "No, I'm not dead. Nor am I alive. I stay here because I hope one day to pass on to another place, more peaceful than where I am now."

"You're not happy here? Even in a church?"

"There is no safe haven on Earth anymore, Yzak. Mankind has gotten lost somewhere along the path of destiny, and the planet is tainted with evil and sin. It... Well, it frightens me. I can do nothing but sit back and watch as the world my friends live in crumbles and dies—as _you_ crumble and die in this wretched place.

Yzak didn't really understand how a church could be wretched, but he believed Nicol. He would believe anything the little boy told him. Despite the four years that had went by, Nicol still seemed to be in his fifteen-year-old body. He was infatuated with an innocent wisdom, but he remained in the form that he died. It was rather depressing to see him like that.

"Ssshh, someone's coming," Nicol said. And then he was gone.

The doors to the church opened and a familiar blue-haired companion appeared with his tomboyish wife, laughing beside him. They're laughter stopped immediately when they both noticed Yzak, frowning at them from his sitting position near the back of the church. "Yzak," Athrun said, startled, "I didn't know you—"

"I don't."

"Well then why are you—? "

"I'm not." He stood up ready to leave, but as he passed by, Athrun grabbed his shoulder. There was definitely something in their eyes that spoke of things no one who hadn't experienced them could possibly try to understand. A tense moment passed between the former Gundam pilots.

"No, stay a while. We come here every Sunday a little early so we can have time to talk about things." Athrun put on a cheerful smile and squeezed Cagalli's hand, but Yzak rolled his eyes and looked possibly even more annoyed than he was when Athrun had first come in.

"Ok, and that's none of my business. I'll just go-" Yzak was rather roughly shoved onto a bench, gasping at Athrun's audacity. He found himself speechless. Athrun sat down beside him, and placed his hand again on the silver-haired man's shoulder.

"It's only none of your business if you want it to be. You haven't been very active lately; I don't see you as often and you're almost never home."

Yzak watched as Cagalli found a spot to sit down and rest near the front of the church. Even as big as she was, she was still beautiful. "Hmm..." was his only reply. He looked thoughtful.

"You should stay."

"What?" Was Athrun really dense or just blind? He knew Yzak better than that. Yzaks do _not_ _do_ religion.

"Really—stay for this evening. Even if you don't want to, it would do you some good."

Yzak blinked several times. _Mankind has gotten lost somewhere along the path of destiny, and the planet is tainted with evil and sin. _He could hear the almost-angel's words, ringing in his head as clear as if the boy were whispering in his ear right that very moment. _I can do nothing but sit back and watch as the world my friends live in crumbles and dies- as_ you _crumble and die in this wretched place..._ "All right, Athrun. I'll stay, but I'm gonna go outside for a minute."

"Why? It's really cold outside!"

"I just do, okay?" Yzak glared angrily in Athrun's direction.

Athrun held his hands up in a light defense as Yzak stood. It wasn't really his fault he went back to nicotine as a comfort for his mother's death. It just sort of happened. Anyway, he wasn't about to smoke inside a church. That was like taking a dog into a fancy restaurant on a dinner date—just plain dirty. He stepped outside.

He headed for the cemetery not twenty feet from the church. This was one of the few remote places left on Earth, and Yzak loved it dearly. The city life never really appealed to him, even though the technology was a plus. He much preferred the quiet, tranquil areas that still held a Zen-like atmosphere. He could see the glowing form of Nicol sitting on a tombstone even before he entered. The sun was shining bright for a winter evening, and it had started to snow again. The weather was another weird thing. In this age, snow was a _rare_ phenomenon. Even when it _does_ snow, it's probably very acidic.

The gate creaked and scraped against its hinges from many years of rust. This place was ancient. He walked over to Nicol and crossed his arms. He would go to Athrun's church service, even if it was only to give Nicol some hope to dwell on...

"What are you doing over here?" he asked, nonchalantly.

"Oh, nothing," Nicol's voice was light and more excited now. "I was just hoping to see my friend here." He sighed. Disappointment shone through his glee. "He's not here right now."

"Who might that be?"

Nicol smiled. He smiled the way he always used to. "I'll give you a clue: you knew him."

"Ok, so he's not some ten-thousand-year-old Egyptian?" That made Nicol laugh and Yzak himself smiled a little.

"He- no, he's not Egyptian. He's one-hundred percent Coordinator, thank you."

Yzak's expression turned serious again. If he was a Coordinator, and he knew Yzak, then he must've died within the past decade or two. "You said he wasn't here."

"He's not, today. He wanders sometimes. He likes to help people out when he sees danger, like whispering to them to tell them where to go or how to get home. I don't like to meddle in other peoples' lives, but he insists on it."

_Yeah right,_ Yzak thought pompously. He guessed that the ghost-boy had it backwards. How could _Nicol_ pass up a chance to help someone?

Nicol's expression slowly changed from delighted to melancholy as time elapsed in silence. Yzak started to get dispirited looking at his sad expression, and when Yzak was feeling pessimistic, Yzak smoked. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it with the practiced ease of someone who'd done it many times, and he inhaled slowly.

Then Yzak felt Nicol's hair under his chin and an embrace with no warmth, but with every bit of feeling that could be taken from it. The ghost was shaking, sobbing softly into Yzak's dark vest. He smiled and wrapped his arms around Nicol this time, letting out a cold, smokey breath that mixed with the bitter, snowy air. "Whas wrong?" He asked, pulling the cigarette from his lips and patting Nicol's transparent hair against his head. He got no reply, only harder sobbing and a tighter hug. "Oh, Nicol..." He threw the cigarette into the snow and watched the smoke go out, then he tilted the boy's face around to look out at the cemetery. It was a beautiful snowy day. "What's wrong?" Yzak asked again.

"I-I d-didn't want to die, Yzak..." His tears glistened and turned to snowflakes as they fell. "There was s-so much I didn't get t-to d-do. I wanted to write a symphony... one that would become famous and change the world... I planned to write it about the war... and how I felt... I wanted to grow up, and I wanted to love-" He had to stop for a moment to regain his strength to speak. Yzak listened patiently. "I never kissed anyone before. Not once. No girls ever go for the brainy guys who like to read or—or listen to classical music..." His bottom lip was quivering cutely. Yzak smiled and felt a warmth unlike one he'd ever felt before.

"Nicol..."

"I mean, it's not like they picked on me or anything,"

"Nicol..."

"I could stand the shunning for a while..."

"_Nicol_..."

"It's just... they never really noticed... No one did!"

"I love you."

Yzak tilted Nicol's face upward and muffled his choked 'Huh?' with a deep kiss. It was an odd sensation—even better than the one his cigarette provided. Yes, it was odd that he was now six years older than Nicol. He couldn't tell a difference. He still felt the same. But, my, how time had slipped by him...

Kissing a ghost was like kissing the icy air, but with solidness there, and the fleshy form of perfect, young lips forever being preserved until the day his lonely spirit was set free. He deepened the kiss, pulling Nicol closer and caressing his wet cheeks with cold fingers. Cold to him, anyway. They felt warm to Nicol. Nicol was dead.

When he pulled away, Nicol had a look of sad-happiness about him (if that was even possible). He looked thankful for something, in a way that made him look hurt. This hurt Yzak almost as much as it did Nicol.

The green-haired ghost bowed his head. "Yzak, please promise me that you won't let your life go the direction it's going?"

"Wha-?" Yzak blinked, "What are you talking about?"

"Please! Just promise me that one thing!" His voice grew a little more frantic.

"Ok," Yzak answered. "I promise."

Nicol smiled happily and let his wings fan Yzak a few more times before he started to fade in with the air. Time around them seemed to slow down, nearly stop completely. The snow was hardly moving as it fell. Yzak looked confused, but Nicol remained cheerful. When there was almost nothing left of him, Yzak heard his timid whispers once more:

"Live well, my friend. I'll be waiting for you..."

Suddenly, Yzak was alone in the cemetery, and time had resumed its regular flow. Athrun was walking out of the church toward him, smiling gleefully, as he always did nowadays. Yzak looked up at the sky as Athrun pulled him away from the cemetery; everything seemed to move without sound—he couldn't hear Athrun telling him about how much he'll love church, or the hum of cars arriving, or the chatter of people as they went inside- everything was mute. Athrun's words fell upon deaf ears. "I set you free," he said softly, "I set you free." And sound returned.

To his surprise, Athrun was right. He _did_ like going to church, and he started going on a regular basis. It made his life less stressful. He'd met a girl the next day at work that he never really noticed before, but she had always been there in the office right beside his. Her name was Hope. She had the same biting, arrogant personality that Yzak had, though, so they clicked together quite nicely (she thought it was funny when they argued). He also quit smoking, and Athrun named his daughter Angel.

Yzak just couldn't help but laugh at random times whenever nothing was funny, and no one else got the unsaid joke that he did. Irony wasn't always bad. He kind of liked it. Bittersweet.

Fin


End file.
